


What You Cannot Feel

by starwarned



Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [24]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Broken Bones, COC 2020, COC Day 26, Carry On Countdown, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2020, Carry On Countdown 2020 (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown Day 26, CoC, DAY 26 - Break, Getting Together, M/M, Watford Eighth Year, break - Freeform, it has like no plot, it just exists, mostly this is just soft lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28169301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned
Summary: Carry On Countdown Day 26 - Break“Pain serves a purpose. Without it you are in danger. What you cannot feel you cannot take care of.” - Rebecca SolnitSimon gets hurt and Baz is only sort of an asshole about it.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026942
Comments: 6
Kudos: 98
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	What You Cannot Feel

**Author's Note:**

> hello I think I'm getting so so tired. coc is taking it tf out of me and I'm doing so many exchange fics and I'm so tired. hnnnnngh. these are just going even more downhill the further we go so I apologize.

It snapped. 

Now, this could be referring to a lot of things— the table underneath me, Penelope’s pencil in her hand, the butter dish. Alas, it was my fucking arm. 

I was attempting to show Penny that I do indeed know how to do the can-can (don’t ask) and in order to prove it, I had gotten up onto one of the dining hall tables. (We were alone in there — teatime in the dining hall is either packed full of students or Penelope, Agatha, and I are the only ones there. And, well, Agatha broke up with me last year and didn’t even come back to school for Eighth Year so she’s not around.) 

I was doing an incredible job of proving Penny wrong when my foot got caught in a butter dish (Betrayal of the highest degree) and I slipped, pitching forward and crashing down onto the table. I heard a loud snap and felt a current of pain shoot up my arm. 

So that’s why I’m here, in the infirmary, my arm wrapped up in a sling because even though a thousand healing spells have been cast on me in the last half hour, I’ve never taken well to magic that’s not mine. It’s not healed yet. It still tweaks when I twist my shoulder too far. 

“Well.” 

A familiar voice rings out and sends a shudder up my spine. I’m not facing the door so I have to turn over in the bed, effectively shooting searing pain up my arm. I grunt when I’ve finally turned enough to see the lanky and brooding figure leaning in the doorway. 

“Need something, Baz?” I spit. 

He shrugs and takes a half step into the room. He’s still dressed in his football kit like he didn’t bother to change after practice. His hair is all windswept (I’m surprised it’s not up in a top knot — he usually does that to keep it out of his face) and he looks more flushed than usual. Like he ran here. He’s likely just still exerted from practice. I don’t know why he would have run here. 

“Just figured I’d come gloat,” he says. 

I momentarily wonder if vampires’ bones can break. I indulge myself in a quick fantasy of standing up, walking over to Baz, shoving him up against a wall, and threatening to break one of his limbs. 

“Well, let’s get it over with,” I mutter, mostly to myself.

He’s still walking and by the time he’s gotten over to my bed, I’m on the defensive. There are professors wandering all over near the infirmary so he wouldn’t dare curse me or hurt me right now, but I almost miss the unstaggering protection of the Roommate’s Anathema. 

I expect him to immediately start jeering at me. I prepare myself to be scorned for being such an idiot, but it doesn’t come.

“Did they not cast a healing spell?” he demands. It’s not _kind_ , the way he says it to me, but I’m also trying to figure out his angle. Why does he care? 

“They did,” I say. “But I’m not really perceptible to magic that’s not mine most of the time,” I say, which is true. Even Penny’s magic feels unusual to me, though hers is better I think because I know she has no intent to harm me. “They said I’ll have to stay here tonight. Which is stupid, but I guess you’ll have Mummer’s to yourself.” 

Baz frowns. His face is going to get stuck like that someday. Not that it’ll be a bad look on him. His face was practically designed for pouting. “You know,” he says, his frown morphing into a sneer. “There’s something to be said about you breaking your arm over something stupid like this instead of on one of the Mage’s preposterous missions.”

“Yeah, well, I’d appreciate it if you _didn’t_ say it.”

And then Baz surprises me. “Why hasn’t it healed yet?” 

I squint my eyes and shake my head a bit. “Did you not hear what I said?” I ask. “I don’t like other people casting spells on me, you preening arse.” 

He doesn’t even respond to my (really good) insult. “Let me try,” he says, taking a step in so he’s right next to my bed. 

My legs still fucking work so I throw them over the opposite side of the bed and stand up, clutching my injured arm to my chest. “Abso- _fucking_ -lutley not,” I say immediately. If my body can’t handle my professors and Penelope casting healing spells on me, there’s no way it’ll take _Baz’s_ magic. 

He has the gall to look offended. “I’m a better Mage than you are,” he mutters. “Let me try.” 

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” I explode. “You think I don’t see right through your fucking act? You stroll in here, all sweaty and perfect in your football kit and you _don’t_ insult me every other word and say shit like _let me try to fix your broken arm_ , and you expect me to be cool with it? Well, I’m bloody well not. I know your games, Pitch.” 

And then, I think, maybe I _don’t_ know his games because he’s sliding his wand out of his pocket and getting up close to me. He carefully places his free hand on my elbow to stabilize my arm and before I can stop him (shout, hit him over the head, call him a _twat_ , _anything_ ), he’s whispering, “ **Kiss it better** ,” and leaning down to press a kiss to my wrist where the sling stops. I can feel his lips on my skin. 

I shiver despite myself. 

Baz’s magic feels funny. It almost burns. But I also think… it’s working. And **Kiss it better** is not a spell that you go around using on your mortal enemies. I know that’s a family spell. 

When Baz has taken a nervous few stumbling steps away from me, I twist my arm and find that it’s completely healed. I tug the sling off and experimentally move my arm. It’s fine. It’s like nothing happened in the first place. 

I look up.

Baz is standing a few paces in front of me and I have the overwhelming urge to shove him up against a wall and _kiss him_. Perhaps punch him a little first, but then definitely snog him.

I reckon I’ve got nothing to lose. Baz started this with the whole family spell business and now I’m fucking soft on him. 

I use my newly healed arm and grab him by the collar to drag him over to the nearest wall and shove him up against it. He looks at me curiously — like he thinks I’m about to maim him and he doesn’t care. His eyes are wide and (I’m realizing that I know exactly what shade they are when he’s taken aback like this — a more green-grey than usual) and his lips are slightly parted. 

I’m going to kiss it better, but for real, I suppose. 

I keep a tight hold of his collar and kiss him. I kiss him with every ounce of my being. I can’t say I’ve ever thought about kissing Baz before today, before right now, but I can say that it just feels good. 

He kisses me back and I slot into his arms like I’ve always belonged there. 

And perhaps I have. 

When he shoves at my shoulder to break the kiss, I let out an embarrassing whine. I blush when Baz raises an eyebrow at me. 

“What the hell, Snow?” he asks, but there’s no bite behind his words. 

I shrug. “You cast a family spell on me, Baz. I’m pretty sure that means you feel the way I do.” 

A raised eyebrow. “And how _do_ you feel?” 

“Like I want to kiss you again.” 

“Oh?” 

“And also punch you a bit, but I always want to do that.” 

Baz rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips. I never get to see that. I swear to myself that I’ll memorize how it makes his face light up. “Right.” 

“Can I?” 

“ _Hmm_?” 

“Kiss you again?” 

“Yes,” Baz says, and before I can make good on my word, he’s sliding his arms around my waist and kissing me first.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](snowybank.tumblr.com)!


End file.
